Hey Jupiter
by SaturnOolaa
Summary: Jillia, queen of Highland, writes a letter to her husband. (spoilers)


Disc: I don't own Jillia, but she sure is pretty.  
AN: I used to dislike Jowy/Jillia on the grounds that it wasn't very plausible he loved her. Then I saw the first Suikogaiden opening. Now I like it on the sole grounds that it's *pretty*. This sure is the first fic I've written in a while. It's not a songfic, but go listen to the song and tell me it doesn't make sense. I don't think I made any glaring errors, but I haven't played past Tinto in a while, so maybe I did and just didn't realize.   
  
HEY JUPITER  
  
A letter to Jowy Atredies Blight, King of Highland  
  
Dear my liege,  
  
It feels strange to call you my husband. It feels strange to think of you as such. Marrige draws to mind the union of two souls, and I'm quite sure ours remain distinct. Marrige also involves love to some extent- and although there are three people you care for in this world, I am not one of them. You know that as well as I.  
  
My mother is dead. My father is dead. My brother is dead. And the enemy is coming to L'Renouille.  
  
I can hear Pilika in the next room. She's singing a song about the big bright sun. In many ways, it feels like this is just another day. I, however, have lived here all my life. I can tell that things have changed. The palace feels empty. You've been sending servants away quietly for some time. People are going to die, and many of them. But not more than those who have already died.  
  
The first time I met you... if I wanted to lie, I could say that I knew we were destined to be together. It wasn't that. It wasn't love at first sight. Seeing two young boys going to be hung as traitors aroused in me only a vague pity. Why should I have felt anything else? You learn to be callous, after a while, living with a brother like mine was. You don't notice when your maids are choked to death or when vases lie broken on the floor. You draw into yourself and wish not to be tossed around the room like a rag doll.  
  
The second time I met you it was compassion. I wish I could say I felt more for you than for your companion, or than I knew then who he would become. Your story was tragic. I tried to shelter you, both of you, and I only half failed. But that wasn't love.  
  
I didn't love you when I was told I had to marry you. I was absolutely indifferent. Somewhat sad, maybe, that such a boy had become a calculating military genius. I probably would have chosen not to marry you if any choice had been involved. I had no choice, of course. I had not had any control over my brother for a long time.  
  
I loved you that one time we danced together. We twirled around the ballroom, oblivious to all the other couples. You looked at me. You just... looked at me, with those eyes, and I knew that it was the one perfect moment I had been waiting for my whole life.  
  
Perhaps I thought you would understand me. Perhaps I thought I wouldn't have to hide anymore. Whatever I thought, I was wrong. I have grown too used to hiding.  
  
Small things started to bother me, after that. We shared a bed. You never even touched me. Most of me was grateful that you had the decency not to assume this was anything but a political manoeuvre. A tiny part of me was saddened that I was not quite your wife. An even smaller part knew that, even were you to roll over in that huge bed, it would mean nothing to you. And the smallest possible part of my body replied that even that was just fine.  
  
I hated Leon Silverburg with all this frosty heart of mine. I began growing paranoid and searching Culgan and Seed's eyes for traces of treachery. I watched as you sacrificed my doll to the Beast Rune, and found myself crying for no apparent reason.  
  
No one could ever declare me a sentimental person. Once, I was glad of that. A world like this needs those who see the truth, those who can be diplomatic and kind without showing weakness. It does not need those who pine after ideals or strive for perfection.  
  
My father was the latter. I am the former. My brother was neither- a lunatic. I often wonder which category my mother fell into. I would like to think... I no longer know what I would like to think. But I hope she could tell her feelings to the world before it was too late. I hope she didn't hide.  
  
The common people cannot know that I live. I am a prisoner of the palace. I no longer care.  
  
The third person you love often asks me to play with her. She tells me silly stories about dogs or fish or whatever animal she wants me to procure for her at the time. She likes me- she likes everyone. The innocence of a child is refreshing in these troubled times.  
  
I love her, in an almost maternal way. But she cannot help reminding me of the atrocities my brother committed in Jowston. In much the same way, I cannot help her at all when she breaks down for the parents that will never return to her.  
  
The second person you love is a white face in the earth. The night she died, I could hear you sobbing quietly on the other side of the bed. Had I tried to comfort you, you would simply have pushed me away. I lay there, breathing and listening and faking sleep, for a long time.  
  
'Nanami.' Older sister of your best friend. I wonder what she was like. Quiet? Loud? Was she a fighter, or did she sit and wait as I do? Did she still love this land? What did she think, in those final few seconds before the arrow hit her body?  
  
The third person you love...  
  
...is the leader of an enemy army.  
  
...is a boy, my own age, drawing people into orbit around him.  
  
...is more things to you than I could ever be in all my life.  
  
The sword and the shield from the start of the world. Destined to fight to the death. You couldn't stand thinking of yourself as in his shadow, so you retreated into the dark with the hungry friend on your hand and plotted.  
  
You don't belong in the dark. You don't belong here, with me and the Beast Rune. I think you should go now.  
  
I would like to think that you don't know the depth of my feelings for you. I hope not. If you do, as I suspect you might, then honour my feelings and leave. With Pilika, with him, it doesn't matter. Walk in the light. Don't let your rune control you.  
  
When I finish writing these last words, I will seal this letter and throw it in the fire. It is not for your eyes.  
  
With love, Jillia Blight. 


End file.
